


Sidearms and Other Necessary Accessories

by ZigZagLurkSwag (fadafordqt), zombieunicorn



Category: Deadpool (2016), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Audio Format: M4A, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Bars and Pubs, Beginnings, Blow jobs (the drink), Double Entendre, Flirting, Genderfluid Character, Guns, Gwen Stacy is Dead, He gets a bit more than that, Josie's bar, Kissing, M/M, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 0-10 Minutes, Pre-Cancer Wade, Wade Wilson in a dress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-05 15:59:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11581374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadafordqt/pseuds/ZigZagLurkSwag, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombieunicorn/pseuds/zombieunicorn
Summary: Peter is just trying to break out of his ennui when Wade explodes into the bar. Well. It's not an actual explosion, thank god, but for him it might as well be.





	Sidearms and Other Necessary Accessories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Madkatter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madkatter/gifts).



> I desperately wanted to write some Deadpool where Wades's genderfluidity and pansexuality isn't played for a joke or objectification but he is still, ya know, Wade. I figured that guy would lift the spirits of a post-Gwen Peter. That's it. That is the entire reason behind that. I hope you have half as much fun with this as I had writing it.
> 
> All my love to my darling coconspirator in pod_together in this, zigzag. She took a chance on something new and I appreciate it deeply. 
> 
> On my part, this is a gift for Madkatter13. She probably knows why. Shhh. Keep it between us Kat.
> 
>  
> 
> Notes from ZigZag:  
> Many thanks to Zombieunicorn for writing this. I really enjoyed working on it even though it's not quite my usual style.  
> Additional thanks to the mods of pod_together! We definitely couldn't do this kind of thing without your hard work and dedication.  
> I'm working on sorting out my audio processes, so sorry if the quality is sub-par. I promise I'm working on it!
> 
> Kudos are awesome. Comments are amazing. Downloads are love.
> 
> -Ziggy

Podfic links are: [M4A](http://pod-together.parakaproductions.com/2017/Sidearms%20and%20Other%20Necessary%20Accessories%20PT17.m4a) and [MP3](http://pod-together.parakaproductions.com/2017/Sidearms%20and%20Other%20Necessary%20Accessories%20PT17.mp3)

MP3 Streaming is available here: 

Peter isn't a bar guy. No one in his family has a ever been a drinker as far as he knows but Aunt May had kicked him out of the house “for your own good dear” and well… he ended up here. He doesn’t know how many trains he’s changed or how many blocks he’s walked but he’s landed at the dive-iest of dive bars he’s ever encountered. 

The woman behind the bar is a little younger than his aunt in years but clearly she’s aged beyond mountains by life and circumstances. She doesn’t introduce herself as Josie. She doesn’t introduce herself at all but Josie’s is the name on this dank put that’s willing to serve a college junior beer at eleven-thirty on a Saturday morning without carding him. 

He’s going to have to GPS his way home but he doesn’t care. It’s quiet and dark in here. Not to mention, probably-Josie the barkeeper hasn’t been bothering him about the fact that he’s not drinking. He paid for the pilsner in front of him but mostly he’s been drawing little shapes in the condensation. Triangles mostly. 

Peter is contemplating what shapes Gwen would’ve drawn on her glass – Gwen, fuck, _Gwen_ \- when then the man slides onto the stool beside him. Out of the corner of his eye Peter sees a long, muscled arm wave down the bartender before feeling his new companion fixes his gaze on him. Peter fixes his eyes resolutely down on the grain of the wood of the bar. 

“Well don’t you just look like the saddest sack in the tristate area.” The man observes. “Clearly you need to be drinking a lot more, a lot faster, because you’re never going to get where you’re going at this rate. Josie!” The man actually whistles at her like she’s a dog. “Two blowjobs for my friend here and the same for me.”

“Go fuck yourself Wade.” Josie says. “The day I keep whipped cream behind my bar is the day I eat your ass out and call you Shirley.”

“Why Josie, my love, how did you know my secret identity! I’m supposed to be a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.”

“That’s Russia, you shitstain.”

“And the mind of a political genius. You’re everything I want, Josie,” Wade purrs. “Make me the happiest woman on earth and run away with me. That radioactive Hitler-knockoff you crazy southern rascals elected hasn’t to repealed gay marriage yet. We wouldn’t even have to catch the train to Niagara.”

“You finally get snipped to go with that pretty little number ‘cuz you know I don’t suck dick,” She says as pours him a double shot of something reddish-brown and holds out a hand. Peter watches rapt as a thick wad of cash lands in her palm. She makes a fist around it and gives him the finger. 

“I love you too, precious,” Wade declares, and finally, Peter turns to look at him.

Wade, as it happens, is gorgeous. He’s got a face like a movie star, short dirty blond hair spiked up fashionably and broad shoulders. He’s wearing a black leather bomber jacket over - yeah, that definitely a blue sundress. It’s the color of a summer sky with a zigzagging geometric pattern that clings to his muscled chest like it would to small breasts and falls down to just above his knees. Then there’s a flash of skin where his lower thighs and half his calves are exposed before some serious-looking black combat boots wrap lovingly around the rest of the thickly corded muscle. 

He also has a huge gun that looked like something out of a John Wick movie resting on the bar next to his elbow. Somehow, the weapon is the least eye-catching thing about him. After all, open carry might be nuts but it is a thing.

Peter doesn’t realize he’s staring until he hears Wade laugh. “Enjoying the view there, baby boy?”

“I- um. Sorry.”

“No worries.” Wade lifts the shot glass and clinks it against the edge of Peter’s mostly untouched beer. His fingernails are short, neat, and painted a glossy, sparkling red so dark it’s almost black. “Looking’s free.”

Peter ducks his head. “I didn’t mean to stare.” He lives in New York for God’s sake. It’s not like Wade is the first non-binary person he’s ever met. His ogling has got nothing to do with Wade is being clearly gender fluid. It’s because Wade is just so hot and no one has caught his attention like since Gwen.

“I know from staring. You were checking out the merchandise. Your eyes are here,” he sweeps his hand over his figure, “When anyone disinterested or with any common sense would direct them here.” He waves his hand over the obnoxiously loud gun. “Personally, I think common sense is overrated and know the importance of trying before you buy. It’s all good.” He gives Peter a toothy grin. “I know how it is. Sometimes when the ice cream truck rolls by you can’t resist the call of the music. You gotta get you a rocket pop.” He leans over and whispers loudly, “The rocket pop is a metaphor.”

“Yeah I picked up on that,” Peter says, feeling his face flush hotly.

“So, listen, I have some work to do and I need you to be my boyfriend for ten minutes.”

Peter looks around. There is a very old drunk at one end of the bar, a trio seated and a stack of folders open between them, and an older woman nestled by the window with her gaze fixed on the street. Despite that, Peter says, “I don’t think this is a gay bar.”

“Every bar is a gay bar if you do gay stuff in it. I promise. Look at them,” he jerks his chin at the three huddled over their work and drinks. “Blondie’s got his hand on the inside of Shades’ thigh under the table. Trust me. Or don’t. I’m right either way.” Then Wade winks and Peter flounders because he slides his arm around Peter’s shoulders and pulls him in. “Okay. He’s coming in. Be cool, Ponyboy.” 

Then Peter is being kissed. 

No one but Aunt May has touched him since Gwen and this is one hell of a kiss. One of Wade’s hands bury themselves in his hair and the other cups the back of his neck and pulls him close. He kisses like he’s got a mission and that mission is kissing Peter blind, like getting inside Peter through his mouth is his sole focus on Earth. 

Peter groans and falls forward a little, catching himself with one palm landing on a thick thigh covered with thin blue cotton, the other fisting tight in the leather of Wade’s jacket. He’s tempted to push that skirt up a little, fumble for bare skin but he doesn’t know this person. He doesn’t. A kiss doesn’t mean he has any right to take liberties beyond lips and tongue and oh god, teeth. Wade definitely likes to use his teeth. 

He’s just getting in the swing of it, finding a rhythm between his tongue and Wade’s when Wade pulls away. Wade dips back in to nip Peter’s lower lip once then winks. “Thanks. He definitely didn’t look at us. According to my favorite movie in the franchise I’m totally supposed to be in, public displays of affection make people uncomfortable.”

“Yeah,” Peter stutters, confused by about 70% of what Wade had just said. “They do.”

“That’s what he said.” Wade gives him another kiss, this time a dry smack on the cheek. “Wait here. I’ll be back two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

“Did you just quote Uma Thurman?”

Wade grins. “Oh, and he catches on quick. I like it.” He ruffles Peter’s messy hair into something even more out of control. “Be here when I get back.”

“Okay then?” Peter mumbles as Wade grabs his gun off the bar, a matching blue purse off the back of filthy floor beside his stool, and disappears.

Peter pulls out his phone, checks the time, then takes a long drink of the beer he’s been ignoring. He hopes it will settle him but it doesn’t really work. 

He’s hot all over and he’s hard. Jesus. He’d thought he was broken since he lost Gwen. Now, well, he doesn’t know what’s going on exactly but it’s something else. Wade is something else. He takes another chug of beer and looks at his phone again. Only three minutes. It feels like a forever.

One more minute rolls over and then Wade strolls out singing Hit Me Baby One More Time, his gun hanging from a holster attached to the strap of his purse because. He’s even doing the little hand gestures that go with the dance as he strolls over to Peter. He drapes his arm across Peter’s shoulders and leans against him. “You ready to blow this hotdog stand?”

“You got here like fifteen minutes ago.”

“Yep.”

“And you just met me.”

“That I did. But I already paid our tabs and all that talk of ice cream trucks and rocket pops gave me a craving. It’s like Oscar Wilde said, I can resist anything except temptation. Want a froyo, baby boy?”

Peter bites his lip. He should say no. He really should. But this is the best he’s felt since his life fell to shit. So, he allows himself lean against Wade’s taller, more solid form even though he could throw the guy through a wall and into New Jersey and lets himself smile.

“Yeah. Sounds good.”


End file.
